


Unconventional Therapy

by Madoshi



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Knitting, Translation from Russian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-22
Updated: 2014-02-22
Packaged: 2018-01-13 09:56:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1221964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madoshi/pseuds/Madoshi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bond finds out about Q's therapist advice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unconventional Therapy

**Author's Note:**

> This a translation of a short fic from Russian, written by [Calvincandy (marroniere_m)](http://archiveofourown.org/users/marroniere_m/pseuds/calvincandy) as a gift to her good friend. All mistakes are mine, since I'm not in the fandom and don't have a beta available here :)

"Wait a minute", says Bond. He looks at Q, then down at the balls of wool on the table in front of the quartermaster scattered among the debris of gutted chipsets, tangled cables and empty mugs. "Seriously?"  
"Seriously", Q answers with the kind of tranquillity even Jason Statham would be jealous of. Or the Prime Minister would. Or Bill Tanner. Q doesn't even turn towards Bond when giving his nonchalant answer. No, why would he, he just continues crotcheting. With a hook. The result of his applied skill resembles a giant beige water drop. An extremely wrinkled one, by the way.  
Bond clears his throat.  
"I'm sorry, is this really a sock?"  
"This is not a sock", says Q still not raising his eyes from the hook. "This is the Eleventh".  
One of us, thinks Bond, has definitely gone mad.  
Perhaps Q can read his mind, because he puts the hook away and explains, "It's only the head. It's not my fault Matt Smith has such a head."  
Bond has no idea who or what the Elevenths is and he knows nothing about this Matt Smith guy. The situation is utterly ridiculous in its absurdity, but he keeps his opinion to himself, just chuckles and leaves.  
In a week he catches Q crotcheting again.  
"Not very manly," remarks Bond lifting a bright blue ball of wool. "Wait a second, are you crotcheting a phone booth?"  
Q puts the unfinished booth aside and opens a map of Paris on the computer screen, then says into the radio set "008, quit sidetracking", then turns to Bond again. Q looks at him as if he has never heard a stupider question.  
"This is TARDIS".  
"I don't know what it is".  
Q sighs, obviously restraining himself with everything he has.

Bond comes to Q's place from time to time, after his missions, and he sees Q creating small figurines again and again. They sit among the piles of reports and unfinished projects, in front of the screens with pulsing points marked "003", "004", and "005" while Q passionately fights with someone over the phone or drinks his tea. In one of these figurines Bond recognizes a Harrison Ford - quite wrinkled, but a Harrison Ford nonetheless. The other one is a badger-legged Darth Vader, accompanied by a visibly limping Captain Kirk. There is also a Spock with one ear bigger than the other. A yellow dog. Some fat multicoloured horses.  
"Q, this is weird", says Bond.  
"This is really quite helping," Q answers. "It eases off the stress. My therapist advised me to do something with my hands as often as I can. You feel... more relaxed. Not the kind of relaxed when you assemble guns."  
"You would know".  
"Yes, I would", Q nods. "This is Peter Capaldi. He is the Twelfth".  
Bond feels like an old man for a moment.  
"Twelfth who?"  
Q smiles.  
"Doctor Who. The Twelfth Doctor Who is Peter Capaldi. And these are the Eleventh, the Ninth and the Tenth."  
"They look like cripples".  
"I'm just learning".  
As time goes by the new figurines appear and the old ones disappear, and this, Q and his therapy, becomes a routine, turns into something familiar, like a china bulldog acquired from M, Moneypenny's jokes or Mallory's constant three piece suits.  
"007", says Q, "it seems I crotcheted a you. While watching those idiots rigging the warehouse with explosives. Don't mind me, 007, this is just a compulsive thing. One leg is a little crooked and the ears do not exactly follow the original, but..."  
"Q", Bond interrupts him. "Thank you. May I take it?"  
The four inch tall agent with one ear bigger than the other and limping as badly as the Vader, the Kirk and all the Doctor Who's sits near the bulldog now.  
"Touching like hell", Q grumbles in the earpiece.  
"It's just", answers Bond, "I have a feeling they will get along".


End file.
